


Olive

by oceanicmars



Category: Original Work
Genre: Drama, F/F, F/M, Found Family, Gen, Heist, LGBTQ Character, M/M, Multi, NaNoWriMo, Nonbinary Character, Organized Crime, Original Fiction, Other, Slow Romance, Thriller, [end of main tags as of 11/1], but hey if you like crimes and gangs with some gay romance hit my story up, hi friends! as time goes on i'll update the tags, this is for nanowrimo 2018 !!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-14 04:06:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16485614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceanicmars/pseuds/oceanicmars
Summary: Olive is a nonbinary (using they/them pronouns) twenty three year old. Wearing nothing but oversize woolen sweaters, mom jeans, and flip flops, you'd never guess they were The Sharpshooter; a notorious, silent but deadly killer feared throughout the city Los Roguras... but, people knew of the name, not the face. That's what Olive preferred. They didn't want nor need any attention drawn to them, as they would rather live their days peacefully with their crew, The Silver Pistols. Well, as peaceful as one could have what with all the heists and crimes.That said, Olive's self proclaimed 'peaceful' life takes a turn as they form an alliance with one of the most well known, feared gangs in Los Roguas; The Phantoms, Their leader, Nicholas Blair, has taken interest in their skills, and wishes to utilize them for future jobs. Olive, who has personal motives in mind, agrees to this union, and thus begins a tale of lies, thrills, potential romance... oh, and most importantly, peanut butter and jelly. It'd be a crime not to mention it.





	Olive

Whenever something bothered Olive, they’d take the bus for fifteen minutes to the liquor store, only to walk for about thirty five to forty minutes past it and into the empty lot; far, far away from human life. The only thing they ever heard here was maybe the occasional bird, crickets, or coyotes if it was night. It was their secret little haven, a place nobody would ever ruin. They’d made sure of it. 

Placing the cello case down, they took took a seat in front of it, carefully opening it and removing the magnificent instrument. They lay it down behind them, and with a huff, turn back to the case. One finger on the top left nook of the case, the other on the bottom right side, they click two buttons at the same time, holding it down for five seconds before releasing. With a small omph, they lift the fuzzy inside for the true purpose of the case.

Grabbing the fifteen cans they packed prior, they walk fifty steps away from the case. Two cans are placed down. Another fifty steps, now three cans. Now taking one hundred steps, five cans. And from there, one hundred and fifty steps, the rest of the cans placed down. They take their time heading back to their case, breathing in the fresh, dusty air, the earth awakening from it’s long, undisturbed slumber. The sky had slowly began it's shift of hues when they reached the case, so they plopped back down in front of it and took their weapon out.

 

The first time they held a sniper rifle was when they were eighteen. Their first (or was it the second) boss handed it to them, forced them to practice once they realized what an a excellent sharpshooter they could be. After all, it turned out they were naturally gifted with the gun. When they has first started, they only struggled a little with their aim if it was a bit too far for comfort. Now, with just a couple of minutes, they could predict which direction the blood would splatter, which way the victim would fall when they shoot, how long it would take for them to die; they just knew when they had the perfect shot.

They weren’t really proud of it.

But a job is a job. So long as they survived, so long as their  _ family  _ survived, they would continue to hold this weapon in their hands. After all, with the smallest intake of air, steady hands, and one pull of the trigger, they change the world a tiny bit. For better or for worse.

 

Setting up was easy. Assemble the pieces, silencer on, and load the gun. Then it was just getting comfy, sitting in a way that worked best for them in the moment, and taking aim. Some small corrections for the scope, breathe in, hold, breathe out. Aim. Hold.

There was never a grand sound when they fired. Instead, they watch the can they had placed fly across the field, a newly large dent in it. Then it was another. From there, they got into the rhythm of things, carefully aiming and taking shots. By the time at least fifteen minutes had passed, all cans had fallen. The wind had shifted twice during that time so reanalyzing the trajectory had been annoying, but they managed.

Now that their shooting practice was done, placing their gun to the side, they let themself fall backwards, looking up at the sky. Since it wasn’t day yet, the stars mixed with the light blue, and they could only watch as slowly, tauntingly, the blue devoured the world, bright beams of light shining in the corner of their eye. Morning had come.

Which means they had to go back home.

 

With a grunt of annoyance, they sat up, packed their belongings, and pulled a trash bag out of their back pocket that had been folded neatly beforehand. They made their way slowly to the cans, throwing them inside and humming a simple tune they heard off the radio. They may be a criminal, but damn be all should they ever litter. That was inexcusable.

It was a slow trek back to the liquor store, but once they arrived they tossed their trash into the nearby dumpster, and began their short wait for the bus. Once on board, they sat by the window, their temple pressed against the scratched glass as they watched the world fly by.

 

Olive was a quiet person. They often found their personality to be quite ironic seeing as how they were possibly in the loudest field of work. And yet, they managed to find the quietest job they can, one where you’re not to be seen nor heard. Apparently, solely committing to sniping was a rarity these days, according to their current boss, but they personally didn’t care. The less human interaction, the better.

Despite their desires, Olive was the most popular sniper in all of San Roguas. After all, as their boss said, solely committing to the sniper role was rare. It didn't help that San Roguas was a rather new city bustling with life, right in between Santa Maria and Santa Barbara, actually below the city of Lompoc. Many had flocked here when it was established for its lavish buildings and promises of riches. You could say it was the new, cleaner version of Los Angeles, which is why it was doing so well. But, the brighter the light shines, the larger the shadow is cast. And within said shadow, Olive had somehow managed to become the most well known criminal in it.

Of course, people didn’t  _ know  _ it was Olive. They only knew of their nicknames; The Silent Reaper, The Devil’s Servant, most commonly The Sharpshooter, and so on. Those who were well versed in their world knew them by P.B, a code name used in heists or when dealing with other gangs. Aside from that, Olive’s true face, name, and persona was unknown to the world. It only knew of their work.

Least to say, Olive  _ hated  _ the popularity. At the very least, they were thankful not everyone knew it was them personally. The only shitty thing was that their gang had always received numerous requests for Olive to join up for a heist or two, maybe deal with someone as a personal job, or to just straight up join the other gang. It annoyed Olive. They were quite happy with where they were, thank you very much. They liked their current gang. Or, more accurately, their family. 

 

Getting off the bus once it neared their stop, they quickly rushed to the large, fancy apartment complex that housed them and their crew. The front desk greeted them happily and courteously, unaware they greeted one of the most feared criminals in this city. Olive simply waved with a small smile on their face, and boarded the elevator. After a while, they reached the upper levels, and walked down the large halls to where the gang’s penthouse resided. Unlocking it as quietly as they can, in case Antony was asleep on the couch  _ again,  _ they opened the door.

It was quiet. Not sure why they expected any different. Luckily, Antony wasn’t on the couch, so they stride over to the balcony. It was a large, spacious place that Olive found comfort in. High in the sky, the people as small as ants below, and most importantly, nobody to bother them. They huddle up near the corner of the glass railing, hugging their knees and once again pressing their temple against the cool glass, only to watch and listen to the waves from the nearby ocean.

 

Not even ten minutes go by when they hear the sliding door open once more, accompanied by the sound of boots approaching them. In one motion, a blanket is draped onto their head, and they lean backwards to look up at a curly mess of ginger hair.

“You’re gonna catch a cold, darling,” the man says, arms resting on the railing as he leans slightly over, lighting a cigarette and taking a deep breath in. He holds it as he says, “How long have you been out?" 

“Not even ten minutes,” Olive responds, adjusting the blanket so it covers them almost entirely.

“I meant how long were you  _ out, _ ” the man says, releasing the smoke into the air.

“The usual. I wasn’t keeping track so maybe around two hours at least.”

“Did you even sleep last night?”

“No.”

 

The man sighs, taking another long drag from the cigarette, and holding for a few seconds. He breathes out along the smoke, “I would normally scold you but, to be fair, I haven’t slept either. So I guess we’re both going in sleep deprived.”

“At least I can leave whenever I want,” Olive mumbles, “You have to sit there till you negotiate something.”

“But they’ll tag you, put some sort of guard on you. Everybody knows you could easily take them out if you exited the building. You’re on the same tight leash as I am, hon.”

“I’m not some idiot who’s going to start a gang war.”

“But they don’t know that. For all they know, they think you’re some sociopath murderer who gets a high from seeing dead bodies.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“But it’s what a lot of people think.”

Olive sighs, standing up and shedding the blanket. The man eyes them curiously, before digging in their pocket and offering them a cigarette.

“I don’t smoke,” Olive says flatly.

He grins. “Good. You’re not allowed to anyways.”

That cracks a smile from Olive. The man puts his cigarettes away, and takes one last drag before putting it out in the ashtray.

 

“Who’s making breakfast?” Olive asks as they both simultaneously head inside, the man following as he checks his phone, “I know Dominic won’t be back home for another day or so, he already texted me.”

“I called Miss Valentine— ugh, I mean, Miss Callie, called her up so she should be here soon.”

“Good. Antony can’t cook for shit.”

“Don’t tell him that, you know he thinks he’s at least decent.”

“He set pasta on fire.  _ Pasta _ . Even I know better than him.”

“I wasn’t defending him.”

Right on cue, Antony entered the living room, yawning as he came over and said, “G’morning.”

“Miss Callie is going to make breakfast so you can relax today,” Olive said as quickly as they could, guiding the man towards the couch, “C’mon, let’s see if there’s a new show to watch or something.”

 

Antony was a trans black man with the softest brown eyes in the entire group. His hair, a lovely dark brown, fell to his shoulders so he often used a headband to keep it out of his face as well as tame whatever he could since it was extremely wavy. It practically curled in every direction possible. He stood almost foot taller than Olive (he was 6’0, they were only 5’2), and was, as stated above, a terrible chef at age twenty seven.

At the very least, he was an excellent hacker. He was the true powerhouse of the group, bending technology to his will. From adjusting security footage, hacking into any system, and able to monitor almost every camera in the city, he was one of the best hackers Olive had ever met.

 

“I really don’t want to watch some drama,” Antony mumbled, as he began to flip through the channels, “Besides, Jules over there is enough drama for anyone.”

“Excuse me, it’s either Boss or Julian, Jules is reserved for my lover.”

“Well I’ll love you right any day boss.”

“Ha! You’re too young for me, sweet cheeks.”

“Only by like five, six years!”

Julian laughs, his dimples showing through his perfect complexion. Olive can’t help but smile as well; they always loved seeing Julian happy, and they especially loved his laugh.

 

A thirty two year old genderfluid man with very fair skin and curly ginger hair, Julian had quite some strong, defined features: honestly he reminded Olive of a Greek statue. He had reddish brown eyes that pierced the hearts of many, fierce yet sultry, and he knew he was handsome. He worked hard to do so, after all. His skincare routine was apparently intense, as his face has barely any blemishes or flaws, and even if it did his makeup often would cover it up. A very fashionable individual, he often bought high quality, expensive clothing and beauty products. There never was a day where Olive saw him any less than impressive.

Nothing like Olive, honestly.

Olive preferred to not fuss over stuff like fashion. They kept it plain and simple. A bit messy but otherwise tame brown hair, they sported round, old-timey glasses (Julian often offered a new, more modern pair but these worked perfectly for them), and wore whatever they found at Goodwill that seemed decent. Often it was giant, soft sweaters that reached their thighs, and mom jeans that went to their ankles. A pair of sandals to top it off, and you had Olive. Probably the most defining feature for them was the litter of freckles all over their body, and their green eyes. Dominic often said it reminded him of emeralds. Antony said it was like the Xbox logo.

Either way, Olive just liked things simple.

 

“Oh, hey, where’s Ivy?” Antony asks, as he peers back over the couch into the hallway, “Is she even awake? Actually, correction, did she even sleep.”

“I hope so, we don’t need three people sleep deprived,” Julian says, “Olive honey, can you go check on her.”

With a nod, Olive hopped off the couch, and made their way to where Ivy’s room was. Two knocks on her door, they began to play with their hair by curling it around their finger when they heard, “Is that you, Olive?? Come on in, but if Antony is with you tell him to shove off. I’m not giving him my hair spray even if he pays me!!”

They chuckle, and head inside to the messy, yet somehow organized room. Ivy stood by the mirror, fixing her hair into it’s trademark double buns, having already applied her makeup. She looked at Olive with a small smile, before returning to her hair, biting on two bobby pins in her mouth.

“Julian was wondering if you slept,” Olive said, sitting down on the bed and sinking down. Ivy needed the softest bed in the world apparently, it was sucking Olive in.

“Oh, I did for about maybe I guess three hours? Probably. I wasn’t keeping track. If it helps, I feel rather refreshed. Plus, I wasn’t gonna let you go without a PB and J sandwich, since, y’know, Dominic isn’t here, and I’m pretty sure Antony will burn it somehow.”

Olive giggles, as they say, “Thank you.”

“Oh, no problem whatsoever. See, I had Dominic teach me, just for situations like this. I didn’t know that those silly little sandwiches had so much going for them.”

Olive chuckles, “They don’t. I’m just special.”

She sings, “Our special little Olive sprout who brings lots of money and fame,” before laughing at Olive’s disgusted face reflected in the mirror, “Oh don’t be so dour. You know I'm joking. Well, kinda. Not like you’re a celebrity though. Your name is famous, not the face. Shame, a little bit of tidying up, maybe trim the eyebrows and straighten the hair, ooh, perhaps some makeup—“

“Please don’t give me a makeover.”

“Oh, I would never! Well, unless you asked of course, or if Julian demanded it. Not that'd I'd listen to him, I prefer your word over his after all! I’m just saying you’d look pretty dashing is all with a lil’ cleanup!! But I’m sure you’d hate me for it if I did what I wanted, and I personally adore you so I would  _ never  _ betray you like that.”

Olive can’t help but smile at that, and Ivy grins as she coos, “There’s my favorite smile.”

 

She puts her hands down, examining her work in the mirror. Ivy was, in Olive’s eyes, one of the most beautiful girls they’d ever seen. A half Japanese, half American twenty-six year old, she had sharp eyes that could cut through any man. She was quite similar to Julian in the fashion aspect, always putting on flashy clothing and eye catching makeup. The most notable feature was always her lips, a bright red from apparently a high class makeup brand, and her hair, always up in twin buns. She switched between glasses and contacts, and Olive assumed it was a contacts day until she adorned her glasses and turned around, hands on her hips, asking, “What do you think?”

“Classy as always. I think you’re the prettier one today. Julian looks a bit more tame.”

“Tame?! Goodness, is he  _ that  _ nervous? Well, I suppose we all are, those men are nasty business.”

Olive looked down at their hands, already balled up into fists, not really sure how to respond. Ivy sighs as well, making her way over and hugging Olive tightly, their head resting against her chest.

“Oh sweetie, don’t worry too much. If anything, Julian will give them a curt no, and we move on. That, or we skip town! Start anew. Always fun, traveling-- ooh, we could go to Hawaii. You could finally swim with those turtles you love!”

Olive managed a small chuckle as they hugged Ivy back. The two remained that way for a while, before Olive eventually let go, thus allowing Ivy to step back and sigh one last time.

“Well, let’s go then shall we? I smell something good which means my second favorite person is here. Which means, I’m sure Julian’s spirits have been lifted, which  _ then  _ means, your spirits will most definitely be lifted.”

Olive nods, and together they exit the room, heading towards the dining area. When they arrive, the sweet scent of pancakes fill the air, and Olive promptly situates themself on their favorite couch, eagerly eyeing the table. Right on cue, a plate of those delectable pancakes is placed before them, and they turn to face a happy, sweet face.

“Good morning Olive!! How are you doing, darling,” Miss Callie asks, her smile as endearing as always, “I heard you have a meeting with another gang today! I do hope things go well, gosh, at least Julie is with you!!”

 

Miss Callie wasn’t a part of the gang. Well, not officially. A thirty six year old woman who was quite chubby, she had beautiful hair that always was soft as silk despite how she dyed a different color every few months. This time was a soft blonde, which made her brown eyes pop out even more. If Ivy was one of the most beautiful girls Olive ever knew, Miss Callie was one of the most gorgeous ones they ever knew. She was practically like the sun, warm and ever comforting, with a smile that could cheer up any. Which helped, seeing as how she was their medic. She had apparently gone to medical school and gotten her license, but instead settled down as a baker, even going as far as opening her own bakery! Why she helped Julian and the gang was a bit of a mystery, but all Olive knew was that the two went way back, and were very close friends. Not that it mattered; everyone loved Miss Callie, no matter who she was.

“Damn right,” Julian states, already digging into his pancakes, “No way in hell I’m letting my Olive go into enemy territory by themself.”

“I would personally be pissed if you did,” Ivy states, taking a plate from Callie with a smile before glaring a bit at Julian, “I don’t know why you think even going in was a good idea!”

A garbled, “The Phantoms are well known for being legit,” is heard from Julian as he swallows his food, then proceeds to say, “And you don’t necessarily hear from them often. They keep a low profile and strike every so often to remind people why they should be feared.”

“Even more reason not to go, dumbass. They’re psychopaths, and they want Olive! Dominic would kill you once he realizes what this is all about.”

“He’s not here, his opinion doesn’t matter. Besides, Olive and I have already talked. They’re fine with it too.”

 

Everyone aside from Julian stopped to face the sniper. They had just placed an entire pancake in their mouth, too lazy to cut it up, syrup dripping down the side of it onto their jeans. Not the best position to be found in.

“Is that true?” Ivy asked, baffled, “I didn’t think you’d agree-- I personally thought Julian was dragging you along!!”

“Uh, so did I, this is the first I’m hearing of this,” Antony says, placing his empty plate on the table, “The way you were acting, I just assumed--”

“Am I that horrible?!” Julian asks, scowling, “You know I care about Olive as much as everyone here!”

“To be fair, you mentioned that just for meeting Olive they’d pay you,” Antony retorts, “So I thought maybe you were just using their fame to the advantage.”

“First off, I’m not that asshole, thanks. Second, nobody knows what Olive looks like. I could take MIss Callie and they’d believe me.”

“Then why  _ are  _ you going,” Ivy asks, but when Julian opens his mouth, she holds a hand up and says, “Oh, no, I don’t care about you. Olive, hun, why are  _ you  _ going?”

Olive had managed to eat the pancake somehow while the others were bickering, cleaning up as much as the mess they could to at least appear proper. They could only shrug at the question though, as they say, “I kinda wanted to see who the The Phantoms were. I read articles on them and I think when I was with another gang I ran into them once.”

 

Silence. Olive blinked once, twice, confused as to why everyone was shocked. They awkwardly took their cup of coffee (three sugars, tons of creamer) and held it in their hands, waiting before saying a small, “Hello?”

“It’s just,” Ivy begins, now a bit flustered, “You hate publicity. You hate going out, like, you just… You never ever have interest in other people.”

“Yeah, it’s…” Antony takes a sip from his coffee, “I mean, it’s not bad! It’s just, we’ve known you for, what, three years? You just, well, you never wanted to meet any gang before, even when you weren’t famous. You just, y’know, am... huh! Well. This wasn’t how I expected things to go.”

“What do you mean?” Olive asks, sipping their own coffee.

“I just assumed you were somehow bribed or forced to go with Julian so like, me and Ivy were going to take you out and hide you away.”

“ _ Excuse me?! _ “ Julian cries out, “As your boss, I’m extremely disappointed in you two for interrupting job affairs, but as your friend, what the fuck! I would never hurt Olive. They’re my sunshine, I cannot even believe... oh my god, really?!”

“Hey, Olive looked like hell almost everyday for the past three days! We assumed--"

“Assuming gets you killed in this industry. You’re letting personal feelings get in the way of work.”

“It’s just--!!”

“Ivy, Antony, it’s okay,” Olive cuts in, sighing, “Thank you for worrying about me. It’s okay, I’m okay, honestly. I want to go. I feel like it’s… like it’s crucial for us if I go.”

 

The two of them look at each other, before sighing, looking at the table embarrassed. 

“Sorry Boss,” Antony grumbles, and Ivy mumbles a small sorry as well. Julian sighs angrily, looking at his phone.

“It’s time,” Julian says, standing up, “Olive, let’s go.”

They nod, and watch as Julian throws on a blazer over his shoulder, giving Miss Callie a peck on the cheek as normal, before heading out the front door. They go up to Miss Callie as well, hugging the woman.

“Now, I know Julian is with you, but be safe darling,” she says, “I’m not a fan of gangs who need to showcase their powers. If you feel unsafe, call me anytime. Julian told me the location so I’ll drop everything to come get cha’.”

“Thanks Miss Callie,” Olive says, as they receive a kiss on the forehead, “I promise to call if something happens. Are you going to be here when we get back?”

“Maybe! I have to go tend the bakery though at some point, so I won’t be here all day. But again, call me if you need me. I’ll bring your favorite blueberry muffins!”

Olive smiles, nodding. They begin to head towards the door, fixing how they look in the big mirror right beside it, when they hear someone clear their throat. Beside them was Ivy, handing Olive one of her backpack purses, yet unable to look Olive in the eye. 

“Here,” she murmurs, “Your PB and J, your 3DS, and chargers for it and your phone. I’m… I’m real sorry about doubting you earlier.”

Olive takes it with a smile, throwing it on before rushing forwards to hug Ivy. The woman is startled at first, but hugs them back, sighing. 

“Can I get in with this?” Antony asks, and the two look over to him, “I kinda fucked up too.”

Olive smiles and reaches and arm out, and the trio hug each other tightly. Olive is the first to let go though, as they muster up the biggest smile they can and heading out the door, giving the others a small wave before closing in. They walk down the hall to the elevator, before sighing. Their thoughts are shattered though when their phone buzzes in their pocket, and they dig it out to see a message from Dominic.

_ Be safe. I’ll be home tonight. Love you. _

They smile. They quickly text him back as the elevator doors open, and get on board, taking a deep breath to relax themself as much as they could.

 

_Showtime._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> salutations! my name is mars, i'm the author of this novel! i wanted to eventually get this story out there, but it was a struggle on how. now, with nanowrimo beginning, why /not/ publish this story!! so, i hope you enjoyed so far, we've only just begun though! i'm excited to show you guys what i have planned next <3
> 
> if you enjoyed, please leave a kudos or even better, a comment with what you thought! any mistakes caught, please let me know! and lastly, follow me on any social media platform listed below! i super appreciate the support, and you'll get to see what a gremlin nerd i am lolol. i hope we can be friends too! (n u n  
> \- tumblr @ http://oceanicmars.tumblr.com/  
> \- twitter @ https://twitter.com/oceanicmars


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